


don’t know where to go (so I’ll just get lost with you)

by chalantness



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1227727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalantness/pseuds/chalantness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don’t worry.” He nudges her arm with his elbow, leaning in to whisper, “I’m really good at keeping secrets.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	don’t know where to go (so I’ll just get lost with you)

**Author's Note:**

> [reposted to ao3 on Feb 23, 2014 from [ff.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10004380/1/don-t-know-where-to-go-so-I-ll-just-get-lost-with-you)]
> 
> based on a [gifset](http://salazar-keli.tumblr.com/post/72574249128/kira-yukimura-are-you-scared-not-right) of them/spoilers of the episode (3.17 "Silverfinger") before it aired

She loves her father – _she does_ – but she wishes he didn't always worry about her. Honestly, who gets rushed to the hospital over a little scrape? She just hadn't been paying attention and tripped down the last few steps after school and scraped her arm along this rusty bit of the pole. It's not that big of a deal.

Her father wasn't very happy when she said that to him, though.

So here she is, sitting on one of the hospital beds in the emergency room as she gets patched up. And of course her dad's going to lecture her the whole time, too, when the nurse is standing right next to them and cleaning out the scrape. She just wants to go home and lock herself in her room, turn her playlist all the way up so she can drown herself in music while she does homework and reads until she feels tired enough to go to sleep. She knows she'll want to make friends soon, if only to have an excuse to get out of the house and away from her dad's overprotectiveness, but after her father called her out on her desperation for attention the other day in class, it'll be harder to get people to think she isn't lame.

So far her first month in Beacon Hills has been a bit of a disappointment. If this is going to be the tone for the rest of her life here, she might as well move out now.

Or she needs to register for a library card because there'll be a lot of reading in her future.

"I have to get back to school, alright?" Her dad glances at his watch before turning the nurse. "Will you be done with her soon?"

Kira resists rolling her eyes. "I can walk myself home, Dad," she insists. "Plus it's all flat ground from here, so you won't have to worry about me falling to my death down any more steps." Her father scowls, and, in her peripheral, Kira sees the nurse bite her lip to keep from laughing. "I'll be fine."

"I don't want you—"

"My son can walk her home," the nurse offers suddenly. Kira's father blinks at the interruption. "If it'll make you feel better, I mean," she amends. "He's coming to visit me in a few minutes and he wouldn't mind doing it. He goes to Beacon Hills High, too."

Her father's face brightens up considerably. "Oh, well, that's perfect, then," he says, smiling at the nurse. "Kira would love to make a new friend."

"Dad," she begins to protest.

"I'll see you at home," he continues as if she hadn't spoken. "Why don't you two hang out, too? And be sure to introduce us to your new friend when he drops you off."

She tries to speak again but he's not paying attention as he grabs his bag from where he'd set it at the foot of the bed, thanks the nurse once again before leaving. Kira lets out a groan once he's out the door and this time the nurse does laugh. "He's just being a parent, honey," she says sympathetically as she pats Kira's scrape dry with a small towel. "No decent parent is going to stand by while they feel their child is unhappy." She pulls a large bandage from a box and flattens it over the scrape. "Just leave this on for a day, alright?"

Kira nods. "Thank you, um…"

"Melissa," the nurse finishes. "And I was serious about my son walking you home. He won't mind at all."

Kira wants to laugh (it seems like Melissa means, _"I'll make sure he walks you home and if he doesn't want to, he'll suck it up and do it anyway"_ ). What she does instead is wonder how lame is it that she actually needs someone's mom to force one of her own classmates to walk her home in order to actually interact with a human being outside of her family?

But then Melissa says, "Well, you've got to start somewhere, right?" and Kira feels her cheeks warm a little because, _crap_ , had she thought out loud again?

Why does she have to be so _awkward_ all the time?

"It takes a little bit of work for most kids," Melissa reassures, probably having guessed her thoughts from the face she was making. Kira nods again and Melissa smiles at her, tosses the bandage peels into a waste bin as she pulls her phone out of her pocket, most likely to inform her son that he has to walk Kira home. Kira pulls her jean jacket back on and then hooks her bag over her shoulder, messes with her hair a little before standing up and then following Melissa out of the room and back down the hallways they'd walked to get there.

When they're in the lobby, Kira turns to Melissa as she tucks some hair behind her ear. "I can just walk myself home."

"Don't worry, Kira. Scott's on his way and he…" She trails off, her eye catching something as her smile widens a little. "There he is," she tells Kira, already walking forward.

She turns her head, eyes following Melissa as she walks up to hug her son – Scott – and Kira's not really sure what she expected this guy to look like, but she finds herself staring at the same boy from her history class. The same boy that had remembered her name when she'd walked up to his table and totally admitted to eavesdropping when she interrupted their conversation. He rides a motorcycle; she remembers seeing him drive up one morning. She also remembers that he and his friend seemed distracted during class all week.

He's kind of really cute, if a little strange. Not that she's in any position to talk, though.

He smiles at his mom ( _gosh_ , does he have dimples? As if he needed another thing to make him attractive), then catches her in his peripheral, getting this sort of grin on his face as he says, "Kira?" in a surprised tone.

She gives a little wave and feels like an idiot doing it.

Melissa raises her eyebrows. "So, you two already know each other?"

"We have history," Scott explains. Melissa just stares at him. " _Class_ ," he adds. "Her dad's our new history teacher."

"Ah," Melissa says. "Well, would you mind taking her home? Her dad's a little paranoid about her going alone since she scraped up her arm."

"Oh." He furrows her eyebrows and Kira's alarmed by how… how _expressive_ his eyes are. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine, thanks to your mom here," she reassures. Scott dissolves back into a bright, happy smile, and Kira gnaws on her lower lip as she feels her cheeks warm up a little bit more. "Um, you don't have to walk me home. Really, my dad's just…" She fidgets, tightens her grip on her backpack strap as Scott just watches her. "He worries."

"No, don't worry. I'll take you home." Then Scott turns back to Melissa. "See you later, Mom."

"Bye, sweetheart," Melissa tells him, rubbing her hand over his arm a few times. Then she pulls away and says to Kira, "It was nice meeting you."

"You, too," Kira says, meaning it.

They're a few steps away from the front doors when she hears Melissa calls out, "Wait, Scott!" He glances at Kira, tells her to hold on for a sec before jogging back to his mom, and Kira watches as they talk, leaning in closely together as if sharing a hushed conversation even though there's no one else around to hear them. Melissa sets her hands over his arms and squeezes a little as she tells him something, and Scott tilts his head a little and smiles and tells her something. Then she nods, and they hug again before he walks back to Kira.

"She's just worried about stuff," he says as they're stepping outside. Kira nods, understanding the feeling perfectly, and Scott grins. "Not that you'd know, right?"

"Oh _gosh_ ," she groans, laughing a little as she shakes her head. "My dad totally embarrassed me that other day."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Exactly, because I'm _so_ popular now," she jokes.

He laughs. "Okay, point taken. But thanks to him, you and I met, right?" She meets his eyes. "I mean, that's why you came up to talk to us after we noticed each other, right?"

She glances down as she smiles. "True, but trust me, owing my dad sucks more than being embarrassed by him. He'd never let me forget that he'd been right."

"Don't worry." He nudges her arm with his elbow, leaning in to whisper, "I'm really good at keeping secrets."

He's smiling at her and she bites her lower lip, feeling her cheeks grow warmer. "So, um," she begins, "are we walking or are we riding your motorcycle? Because I'm not really sure that _this_ "—she tugs at her dress, which has a full skirt that falls down to her ankles—"will look decent on the back of a bike."

He just stares at her.

"What?" she asks.

"How did you know I drive a motorcycle?"

More blood rushes to her cheeks. If she keeps blushing so easily, she may very well pass out. "I saw you drive it to school this week," she explains quickly, feeling embarrassed.

"Oh," he says. "Well, no, I didn't take my bike today, so we'll have to go the old-fashioned way. But, are you in a rush to go home?"

"Not at all," she admits with a laugh. "What did you have in mind?"

He looks up at the trees, sliding a hand into his pocket. "Would you mind going for a walk in the woods? There's a trail nearby here that I like to walk."

"Sounds great," she says, meaning it.

So she follows him towards the trees, and maybe it's silly, but she finds it sweet, the way he sort of puts his hand over the small of her back and looks both ways before guiding her when they jaywalk across the street. She's not really used to anyone other than her parents being overprotective of her enough to do something like that, but with Scott, it doesn't really _feel_ like he's patronizing her by doing so or being overbearing about it. He just seems genuinely concerned about her. She gets the feeling that's how he's like with everyone.

It's sweet.

When they're off of the pavement and walking the dirt path, he offers to carry her bag for her and then gets this look on his face when she actually does, like he's surprised or something even though he's the one that offered in the first place. He laughs a little when she points this out.

"Some girls get all defensive when I try to help them," he explains as he hikes her backpack strap over his shoulder. "Well, the girls I'm friends with do, at least."

"Well, my backpack weighs a ton, so you're welcome to carry it whenever you want," she tells him jokingly.

"Good to know," he laughs.

Then they talk, mostly about random things, as they're walking. They trade favorites – colors, shows, movies, music – and then talk about themselves for a bit – she tells him about her family moving a lot for her dad's job and he tells her about his mom and his best friends – and the usual anxiousness that she gets in her chest when she's talking to someone new dissolves rather quickly. She's not really sure what it is about him, but Scott is _comfortable_ to be with. He's easy to talk to. And it's not like she knows him well (or at all, really) but considering how antsy she's noticed him be all week, he seems considerably relaxed, too. She'd ask if things are alright, but like she said, she doesn't know him well enough to yet.

She doesn't really know how long they've been walking (half an hour, maybe?) when Scott trails off in the middle of his sentence. She looks up at him to ask what's wrong, and then feels her heart thump in her chest. He's staring rather intently at his shadow on the ground, though that's not what's caught her attention.

"Scott," she says, barely above a whisper.

He blinks a few times, shakes his head and smiles at her apologetically. "Sorry, I got distracted." Then he takes in her expression and frowns, eyebrows furrowing. "What's wrong?"

"Your eyes are…" She doesn't know why, but she lifts a hand and extends it towards his face.

"What?" he asks, though judging by the hushed tone of his voice, she has a strange feeling he already knows what she's seeing.

"Your eyes are _red_."

" _What?_ " He actually bats her hand away and then back away from her, dropping her bag to the ground. She watches his chest fall up and down more frequently, his breathing becoming erratic, and when she takes a step towards him, he snaps, "Don't!" and it comes out as a snarl through his clenched teeth. She flinches but doesn't back away.

"Scott, what's wrong?" she asks, stepping towards him again.

"Kira, don't," he warns, his breathing becoming more frantic as he stumbles backwards again, setting a hand against the trunk of a tree for balance. "Just, get away, _please_."

She feels her own pulse racing, but for whatever reason, she knows it's not because she's scared. She…

Well, she can't really describe it. She can't bring herself to run away, either.

"Are you having a panic attack?" she asks, because she's racing through her brain, going back through all of those medical books she'd read for no reason before and trying to remember what symptoms match up with what he's going through now. Then he groans and falls down to one knee and she pushes all of those thoughts away, drops to her knees beside him and puts a hand on his shoulder. He grasps her arms above her elbow and tries to push her off of him, but she just grips on tighter and says, loudly and firmly, " _Scott._ "

"Kira, _no_ ," he growls, shutting his eyes as he bares his teeth. Maybe she's seeing things, but they look like _fangs_ now. "You have to leave before—" She feels something sharp sink into her arm and she lots out this strangled sound from the back of her throat, wincing at the pain. "Oh, _shit_ , Kira," he begins, trying to pull away.

"No, no, don't," she protests, sliding her hands to the base of his neck to keep him in place. "Just focus on your breathing, okay? Focus on me, on my voice, and breathe."

He nods a little, squeezing his eyes shut, and she pulls him a little closer. He sucks in a deep breath and leans in until his forehead is pressed against her collarbone, and she tries to ignore the tingles of his hair brushing against her skin. He takes in a few more deep breaths through his nose, tightening his grip on her arms as if he has nothing else keeping him in the moment. And, as she's murmuring reassurances to him under her breath, she feels his shoulders' movement slowing as his breathing is falling into a heavy yet steady pattern.

They stay like this for a few minutes, until his grip finally loosens and he pulls his head off of her, slumping back. She has this urge to run her fingers through his hair, so she does, and he lets out this little sigh and leans into her touch.

"Better?" she asks.

He nods. "Thanks," he tells her, breathless. She tilts her head to look into his eyes. They're dark brown again.

"You have really pretty eyes," she says, and his laugh comes out a little hysteric, but she thinks that's expected considering what just happened.

 _Whatever_ it is that just happened.

"How's your arm?" he asks, running his hand over where he'd dug his nails into her. It doesn't look like he actually drew blood, so that's a good thing. "Kira, I'm so sorry I hurt you."

She lets out a breath, nodding. "Do you know how you can make it up to me?" He furrows his eyebrows again. "Can you explain to me what just happened to you? Because I'm pretty sure that wasn't just your average panic attack." He stares at her for a long moment, this uncertain expression on his face. "You owe me, remember?"

He laughs a little – which makes her smile, because that's what she was going for – and says, "You wouldn't believe me if I tried."

She shrugs. "Try me, anyway."

He stares again, and, for a moment, she thinks he's going to say no. But then he nods and gets up to his feet, holds a hand out for her to help her up. "You might want to…" He trails off, gesturing vaguely with his hands. "Can you cover your eyes for a sec?"

She wants to protest, but does so, anyway, laughing a little as she presses her hands over her eyes.

It's quiet for a moment. She listens to their breathing and the sound of the wind rustling the leaves, but after a moment, she hears his steady breathing quicken. For a second, she's worried he's going through another… _whatever_ he just went through, but he grunts a little, leaves and twigs crunching under his feet as he's moving, and then finally says, "Okay."

She peeks through her fingers, which makes him chuckle, but then sucks in a soft gasp and pulls her hands away to get a better look.

She takes his new features – his wilder hair and bright red eyes, his pronounced teeth and pointed ears – and feels herself take a step towards him, only this time he doesn't back away. Everything about his face looks… looks _beastly_ , animalistic. She can't really describe it. But (and maybe she's just forcing herself to see this) she can still see parts of Scott in this new face. His jawline, his nose, his lips, the expressiveness in his eyes—she may not have really _met_ Scott until today, but she doesn't have to look very hard to recognize him.

She moves a hand towards him, and while he tenses a little, he doesn't try to turn away. She bites down on her lower lip lightly as her fingertips touch his skin, grazing over his lips, and can't bring herself to stop staring.

"Are you scared?"

His voice is so soft that she thinks she imagines it at first. He sounds worried – terrified, really – of her answer.

So she shakes her head, sets her palm against his cheek and runs a thumb over his lower lip. "Not right now," she admits. "It's strange, but kind of beautiful, too."

"Really?" He almost sounds dazed. She nods, feeling her smile widen a little. He lifts a hand, setting it over hers against his face, and she watches as his features shift back to normal. She lets out this breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and, because her hand is still pressed against his face, she runs her thumb over his lower lip again.

It feels the same as before. When she tells him this, he gives her another dimpled smile.

"Yeah?" he asks. She bites her lower lip and nods. "Good to know," he says. He pulls her hand from his face but still holds onto it between them, and, slowly, she threads her fingers with his. He grips her hand firmly, smoothing the pad of his thumb over her skin. "What should we do now?"

"Do you… I don't know, maybe grab something to eat?"

He laughs and says that sounds great.


End file.
